


Dress Up

by deathwailart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Undressing, dressing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart





	Dress Up

“I think this is the point where I have to tell you that I’m kind of uncomfortable,” Tristan mutters as he steadies Marta on his lap, one of her hands cupping his chin as the other holds an eyeliner pencil dangerously close to his left eye. Marta lets out a snort and digs her fingers into his chin a little harder. Sometimes he forgets how strong Marta is because she’s tiny, a foot shorter than him, and she’s delicate and petite (and if he wanted to get a punch on the shoulder he’d call her dainty but she hates that word) but he’s going to have little red dots from her fingers.  
  
“Don’t be such a baby,” she retorts but she does lean in to kiss him, all sugary lip gloss and waft of vanilla perfume. “It’s a party, you agreed to this. It’s not like you’ll be wearing a dress like Gabe right?”  
  
“God,” he has to laugh at that, “I’ll need to take photos.”  
  
“Okay, hold still or I’ll stab you and that wouldn’t be good.” He makes a consenting noise and does as asked, tense, hands tight on Marta’s hips as she draws a careful line of eyeliner under his eyelid before smudging it just a little. “Okay, the other eye and then the worst is over.” She leans in closer and he can’t resist arching up and grinning when he hears her breath hitch but then one nail presses sharply under his chin and he lets her finish.  
  
“So?” He wants to see how ridiculous he’s going to look but she shakes her head and reaches back for a palette of smoky grey eye shadow and a brush and makes him close his head. He has to resist the urge to drag his fingers higher because she’s only wearing a bra and jeans, not wanting make up on her top but not quite ready to get changed but he manages and then she’s sitting back and telling him to look.

And wow. He looks nothing like himself (nothing like Nikki Sixx either but him and the others lost a bet and he figures this was better than having to go as Freddie Mercury in the I Want to Break Free video) but he looks good. His eyes seem even darker and so much wider than normal and it actually looks good. Although that’s probably more Marta than him because he thinks her wide selection of make up in every colour imaginable looks crazy (orange eye shadow will never make sense) but once it’s on, it looks amazing. So he tries not to question her artistry and just grins, leaning up to kiss her again.

“You like?”  
  
“I definitely like.”  
  
“Good, I need to go get ready now,” and she punctuates the statement with another kiss, fingers in his hair and right now, he really wishes they were just staying in because his jeans are starting to get uncomfortable but she’s out of his lap and going into the bathroom, make up bag and clothes in hand and Tristan is actually looking forward to when they leave the party because he has the house to himself for the night and Marta is dressing up as a flapper girl but he doesn’t actually know what that details, only that it seems to be taking an obscene amount of time while he sits and flips through his phone, laughing at all the texts Gabe has sent, complaining about his costume and the fake moustache that’s being pencilled on his face right now.

Behind him, an indeterminate amount of time later, there’s the quiet clearing of a throat. He turns and almost drops his phone because he almost doesn’t recognise Marta, lips painted dark red, eyes sharply outlined and hair sleek and smooth instead of the ruffled ‘just rolled out of bed looking this hipster’ thing she usually goes with. The dress definitely looks like something from another time but it looks incredible and if he didn’t think she’d shove him away, he’d kiss her.

“Well?” Her hands go to her hips and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can croak out anything more than wow but she’s smiling, that winning smile she gets that has no hint of anything else but joy in it and he gets up and carefully kisses her on the cheek.  
  
“You look incredible. More than incredible.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
She smirks and carefully bends down to pull on her shoes, shiny black heels and he has to laugh because she’s still so much smaller than him but he hands her the stupidly tiny purse (or clutch but a clutch is still an essential part of a car to him) and takes her hand to go downstairs.

He’s definitely looking forward to the party even if they look like an odd couple.

\---

Afterwards they stagger inside and he shrugs off his jacket and hangs hers up when he helps her out of it, kicking off his shoes as she sets hers down on the floor (she took them off in the taxi because her feet were sore from spending hours dancing). And then he smirks and Marta narrows her eyes at him until she shrieks as he scoops her up and rushes upstairs, laughing as she giggles and tells him off, hitting ineffectually at his shoulders. He sets her down once they’re in his room though, kicking the door shut out of reflex and he directs her to the bed, indicating for her to sit and she goes willingly but with a confused frown that deepens when he kneels between her legs, rubbing her calves. He smiles up at her and squeezes a knee before checking that, yes, he’s allowed to do this and because he knows all too well that sometimes you don’t realise how drunk you are until the drive home.

“Can I?”  
  
“Hmmm?”  
  
“Can I go down on you?”  
  
She flushes pink and nods, one hand running through his hair, the hairspray mostly gone now. “Be careful with the tights.”  
  
“I promise.” And he will because she’ll kill him if he wrecks her clothes.

With a nudge he gets her lifting her hips and rolls the tights down, leaving them on the floor before he urges her thighs apart and slides her underwear down and off and she gasps and he smiles because it feels sort of dirty to be doing this when she’s still mostly dressed and he likes doing this, likes hearing her moan and whimper and gasp. He finds her clit quickly and she lets out a high moan, arching her hips right up and he slides one finger then two into her and she tightens her fingers in his hair and her legs shift so that only the tips of her toes are on the floor, thighs trembling and then she comes quickly, gasping out his name as he pulls back and wipes his hand over his mouth, rubbing at her legs again until she’s breathing normally, hair sticking to her forehead.

He looks up at her and kisses her knee, right on the scar from where she fell off her bike and then her fingers comb through his hair, leaning forward somewhat awkwardly to tilt his chin up to kiss him.

“You look so pretty right now,” Marta says and God, he loves this girl with her mussed up hair and pink cheeks and still glittery lips. “In a debauched sort of way.”  
  
“Says the girl in a dress around her thighs and no underwear.”  
  
“It’s your eyes,” she answers, punctuating it with another kiss as she takes his hands and pulls him up, pushing him back towards her bed once he’s on his feet.

He’s happy to lie back and let her take control, still with her dress hiked up and his own jeans pulled down just enough, hands on her thighs.

He’ll have to let her dress him up more often.


End file.
